


Stages of Denial

by moon_hedgehog



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic), The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, M/M, Mutual Pining, Shameless Smut, Swearing, honest to god idiots to lovers, not enough proofreading we die like men, yes I know I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:23:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hedgehog/pseuds/moon_hedgehog
Summary: how to definitelynothave a crush in a post-apocalyptic world - a guide by Edward Hyde.





	1. stage one

It's just a quick hookup, that's all – Edward repeated to himself. This goddamn dark-haired guy had been getting to his guts whole day long (“Edward go there, Edward get this, Edward we're running out of medicine and the nearest pharmacy lies across the broadest street full of Walkers, but surely you can do it, you're one fine fellow”), and he sort of should've been angry like a fury; but as soon as the guy wiggled his hips and innocently slapped his eyelashes one (1) time – Hyde's roof got blown off. Just like that, stupidly and immaturely, to bleeding nose. That's why now he was fucking the kid in a dirty backroom, having sat on an age-old washing machine like some bloody king. Although why fidget, now this dumbass actually _was_ the king for him – meekly spreading his legs with pulled off jeans (his own Edward had long thrown somewhere sideways), he scratched Hyde's shoulders with accurately clipped in the fucking apocalypse nails; moaned like a real, purebred whore and sadistically pushed down his cock. What was his name again? Henry.

Henry had such pale skin like of a motherfucking aristocrat not going out under the sun for three hundred days, intoxicating big eyes and a mouth full of quips. All day he'd been oozing with sarcasm and all day Edward dreamed of shutting his pretty mouth with something between his legs, so that it'd get to the throat – and when he did drag him into a more or less secluded place in the whole camp, shut with a kiss instead. This long-legged bastard put his teeth to use, leaving a bloody mark on Hyde's lower lip; that he forgave him when licked his neck and heard one entirely sluttish gasp. One entirely sluttish gasp from which he went hard finally, firmly and for long, to trembling fingers, pulling a rebellious fabric of a T-shirt off his chest. Somewhere out there, outside the fence of their camp were crawling, dropping their guts on the ground, zombies, and fresh evening-autumn air bit cheeks – here it was as if the very first circle of Hell decided to settle in a small, dirty room. Edward felt guy's cock with his stomach, cock wet with pre-come; all he could remotely do was reach it with a hand and pump up and down sharply. Henry huddled around him like the last bitch, moaning out his name somewhere in the neck or the very Hyde's nature. To the full eversion and without brakes, Edward pegged him losing rhythm and track of time, feeling sweat rolling down his back and the smell of cheap shampoo in partner's hair. Fucking shampoo. Peppermint.

Of course, it couldn't last long.

He came inward, biting Henry's earlobe, and Henry didn't need even five seconds to reach the edge too. Eating away the last remnants of Hyde's brain, he sobbed, clinging to him with the whole body and shivering finely – like that, he had to be hugged and never let go. Fuck the apocalypse, Edward was now ready to carry his sudden lover in his arms. Feeling semen flowing down his thighs, he reluctantly pulled away, breathing heavily and receiving a dozen more kisses on the nose and forehead. Where are the damn napkins here? Or at least something, Lord. God. Fuck. It was the End. This very satiated smile opposite – it was the End of his, Edward's, life.

Apparently, even though this time was the first, it clearly was in no hurry to become the latter. Moreover, there was no need to deceive yourself that “it's just a quick hookup, that's all”. Not anymore.


	2. stage two

Fucking marvelous – thought Edward, jumping over hillocks like a crazy cat and desperately trying not to fall into a swamp. Just yesterday – okay, be it a couple of days ago – he fucked this guy in the backroom and swore it was all for fun; today, with his own two legs, he was rowing to save his group, one hundred thousand years dreamt to him. Fine, let's say he didn't give up right away. Henry had to properly whirl, ponder, peeve and whine around him – but he still achieved his own. Seeing an offended crease above his lips, Edward couldn't restrain and was carried away again. Into the forest. To pull, from a complete ass, out those people with whom his hapless not-lover lived. “You're the best killer I know,” Henry told him before they separated. Sure. Fucking assassin.

 

So what if they helped Hyde when he needed it? Now every man for himself, right?! This and other quite reasonable thoughts were spinning in his head, while Hyde himself whistled up Walkers and dodging among them, brought the ghouls to the camp of those fuckers who took Henry's group as a cheap labor force. Apparently, they had more guns – of this Edward was convinced when he entered their arsenal, shooting a guard between his eyes with a sniper rifle on the way. On the amount of weapons and also high walls, all of their cool security had ended, so he managed to sneak inside rather quickly. And taking advantage of panic in style of “boys, we're attacked!”, he did shoot another bunch of bad guys; leading the good ones out a safe way. At some point, realizing that his entangled thoughts were still with Henry, Hyde thought – bitch you better die. Then corrected – dear god, this bitch better not die. All this exciting action took about thirty minutes, and at that moment when the danger seemed to be over and you could brew tea; that same moment when Edward finally saw the asshole he'd been thinking about all this time – a stray bullet flew into that same asshole.

Hyde, not differing with special athleticism, yet turned out to be faster than the bullet.

 

When he came to senses, on the face of bending over him Henry was written something like “if you die, I will kill you”. Edward's brain got afraid of such threats and therefore refused to die – he had to sit on the bed in an improvised hospital, where he'd been dragged by kind people saved by him. Flies dancing rumba in his head didn't prevent from a curious, vulgar ask:

“So what, will I get lucky with you again, honey?”

Henry rolled his eyes, but didn't let go of his hand.


	3. stage three

“Sleeping?”

Henry jerked, returning his finger to the trigger and opening eyes wide. Of course not. Awake as a clear star.

Fortunately, there was no one to show off before. The man who emerged from the darkness was only Hyde. He had already healed enough to walk, and recently even volunteered for the raid (no one allowed him). What he did was so stupid. Henry refused to admit he had long forgiven him.

“I just wanted you to know.” The blond sat down next to him. He smelled of blood and some kind of metallic freshness. Jekyll liked it more when Hyde smelled of morning sheets, but he stayed silent nevertheless. “Whatever happens tomorrow… or the day after tomorrow, or after after tomorrow...” his emerald eyes flashed in the dark; momentarily, preventing Henry from collecting his thoughts, he reached forward. It felt… strange. Edward's lips were rough and cracked, and yet they kissed him so gently and softly as if their owner feared to cause harm. Maybe it wasn't completely wrong. Sometimes Hyde was really afraid of himself.

Jekyll was never.

“Yeah… Me too,” he murmured when they both broke off, breathing in cold night air.

Soon a new day would begin, but for now, they could spend at least a second of time with each other.


End file.
